Page 62 of Offensive Plays
“Speaking of Page Six…looks like that charity date you and Fergie went on got blown out of proportion,” she says.
I look up at her. “What are you talking about?”
“You seriously haven’t seen it? What kind of social media manager are you?”
“A cheap one, apparently. I’m doing it for free,” I say, my heels clacking in time next to her silent tennis shoes.
“Well, there were a few articles that speculated that you and Fergie were an item. Rina was all over it of course and even asked the Pulse to run a piece about the charity auction using the photos from your shoot with Izzy.”
“Really? She didn’t mention anything to me.”
“Probably because she squashed it. I mean you two are obviously not a thing. You’re the two most opposite people I know.”
“That’s not true,” I snap. “We’re both Houston Heatwave fans.”
She laughs and intertwines her arm through mine. “We’re all Houston Heatwave fans.”
Just as she says it a group of Vegas fans in black jerseys and t-shirts approach the baggage claim area. They’re all obnoxiously high fiving and chest bumping.
“Except those douches,” she clarifies.
I laugh through my nose. One of them winks at us as we walk by, and another licks his lips. “Douches for sure.”
“So you’re telling me that the only way you’re going to a show is if you get to be on stage?” my brother asks.
“Yes, Zane. Why is that so hard to believe.”
“It’s just so unlike you to want to be the center of attention,” he says sarcastically.
I punch him in the arm, just as his teammate’s are strolling up.
As always, Landry, Hicks and Fergie all arrive together.
“You do know that just because you guys live together doesn’t mean you have to do everything together?” Zane offers.
“At this point, these two are my extra limbs. If I don’t have them nearby, I can’t function,” Landry says.
“That’s a problem,” Kesley says. “What are you gonna do when they find the women of their dreams and want to move out?”
Landry makes a pouty face. “Don’t put me in a bad mood before a big game, Kesley. Haven’t you learned the rules yet?”
He pulls out a chair next to Zane and the other guys take the remaining seats at our circular table. Which puts Michael right next to me.
His hand ghosts across my thigh briefly and my breathing hitches. Tonight is our night.
“What rules?” Kesley asks.
“Pre-game rules,” Hicks says. “I’d be happy to list them out for you. Rrrrrule number one,” he begins. But he’s quickly cut off by Zane throwing a bread roll at his face. “Hey!”
“We’re not doing that again,” Zane points to him.
“But seriously, what rules?” Kesley asks again.
“They’re not written rules,” I clarify.
“More like unspoken rules,” Michael adds, his hand now floating onto my bare thigh under the table.
“Yeah,” Keelan says. “Unspoken rules like… thou shall not interrupt the pre-game nap.”